January 8th, 2007 (04:28 pm)
Feeling: cold
Hearing: green day
"I've got a flask inside my pocket
We can share it on the train
And if you promise to stay conscious
I will try and do the same
Yeah, we might die from medication
But we sure killed all the pain
But what was normal in the evening
By the morning seems insane
And I'm not sure what the trouble was
That started all of this
The reasons all have run away
But the feeling never did
It's not something I would recommend
But it is one way to live
Because what is simple in the moonlight
By the morning never is"
"And 500 miles away, down I-70
there's a boy sitting in a room
full of patches and PCP
and the kids all drink the same beer
and they talk about anarchy
and he wonders if he's the only one there
who remembers what that used to mean
and the punk-rock band plays on
long into the night
these days the girls with empty eyes
hardly ever put up a fight
and he watches as his friends give up
and slowly start to die
sticking needles in their arms
because punk-rock boys never cry"
"i know that there's
a difference between sleight of hand, and giving everything you have
there's a line drawn in the sand, i'm working up the will to cross it
rhetoric can't raise the dead
i'm sick of always talking when there's no change
i'm sick of empty words, let's lead and not follow
late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal
red light, can't stop so i spin the wheel
my world goes black before i feel an angel steal me from the
greedy jaws of death and chance, and pull me in with steady hands
they've given me a second chance, the artist in the ambulance
can we pick you off the ground, more than flashing lights and sound"
